


Accio, My Heart

by Gryffindorable



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Fluff, Harry Potter - Freeform, I AM NOT OKAY, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:01:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7916098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gryffindorable/pseuds/Gryffindorable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Spencer reads and Gideon pretends he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accio, My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I just watched Nelson's Sparrow, and I am so fucking far from okay.

Spencer is exactly where Gideon left him, sitting at the kitchen counter with a worn paperback. It’s not an unfamiliar sight, or an uncommon one, so Gideon barely registers it as he unpacks his groceries. At times like these, he allows his over-observational tendencies to fall by the wayside and just basks in the peace of his apartment and Spencer’s presence.

            What is different, which Gideon only registers when he turns fully to ask the genius how he’d like his steak, is that Spencer is reading.

            Reading. Not Spencer-reading, just _reading_. He’s hunched over with panicked anticipation, fingers thumbing through the pages at a fraction of his usual pace even as his eyes flash rapidly across each line. It’s even the same book; its lovingly worn blue cover telegraphs its persistence.

            “Good book?” Gideon questions.

            “Uncommonly,” Spencer murmurs. Gideon bites back a smile as he turns back to the stove; that will be the last of Spencer’s attention he receives until they sit down to eat.

            He makes Spencer’s steak medium and cuts it in half because he knows the young doctor won’t eat it all tonight – if he can pull his focus away from his novel long enough to eat at all. Spencer doesn’t look up at his plate until Gideon manually presses a fork into his hand.

            “Eat,” he commands, and Spencer does. The book is set aside, a paper napkin holding his place. “We could play chess after dinner.”

            “Maybe after I finish my book,” Spencer offers.

            Gideon eyes the paperback. There are still a good hundred pages under the napkin. “Alright.”

            They make idle small talk, nothing important of existential but interesting, none the less.

            Afterward, Spencer has an eager bounce in his step as he takes their plates to the sink. He glances back at the book on the table and Gideon shoos him toward it. He rinses the dishes and tosses them in the washer. It doesn’t take long.

            When he turns back, Spencer is enthusiastically devouring his novel once more. Gideon can’t help the small, indulgent smile that tugs at his lips.

            It looks like they won’t be playing chess tonight.

            More than an hour passes before Gideon hear the scrape of Spencer’s chair across the tile. Gideon has already settled into bed, but he sets aside the case files he’s been reviewing in favor of a compendium of quotes JJ gave him. It’s sat unopened on his nightstand for weeks.

            After the Fisher King, Hotch mandated a solid week of vacation. At home, Gideon’s been doing his best to keep Spencer from profiling entirely; he needs a break. Gideon doesn’t, but it wouldn’t be good if the young genius saw him working.

            He’s bored by the time Spencer finishes readying for bed. The quotes are cliché and overused, and he’s already spotted three botched sources. Besides, Spencer cuts a far more distracting vision, bundled up in plaid flannel and one of Gideon’s schools shirts from thirty years ago. It’s no chore to set the volume aside and wait for Spencer to join him, just watching.

            “You were reading slowly tonight,” he comments as the younger man settles into his side. A cheek rubs against his chest, vibrating with Spencer’s acknowledging hum. “Is something wrong with your subconscious processing?”

            “It deserved conscious realization,” Spencer answers.

            “Yeah?” Gideon’s hand finds its way into Spencer’s hair, scraping gently against his scalp. “What was it about?”

            “It was _Harry Potter_ ,” Spencer explains, as if Gideon hadn’t at least read the cover. “JJ thought I’d like it. It’s, uh, it’s about a school for wizards.”

            Gideon knows the plot, of course; the series has become somewhat of a cultural phenomenon, and Stephen’s been singing its praises since he read the first one on a girlfriend’s recommendation in college. But he’d like to hear what Spencer thinks, and it’s not often that the genius feels he can explain things to _Gideon_.

            “I don’t know how to explain it,” Spencer says. “It’s a children’s book, but it’s well-written and complex… it’s _incredible_.”

            “I’ll have to read it,” Gideon says, omitting the fact that he already has. Stephen can be persistent, and he’d had no choice once JJ joined the fray.

            A tentative arm snakes its way across the older man’s chest.

            “My mom – the other day, she said the best way to read something is to have it read to you. By someone you love.”

            Is that so? Spencer’s mother is a smart woman, but Gideon suspects this is a pointed hint.

            “So read it to me,” he suggests.

            The younger man’s eyes slip shut as Gideon presses a careful kiss to his forehead. The lamp is turned off, and still Spencer’s smile illuminates the darkened room.

            “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much…”

**Author's Note:**

> These two idiots had something going on, and no one can convince me otherwise. I'd love to hear from you below!  
> (Disclaimer: I in no way, shape, or form own Criminal Minds or Harry Potter. It makes me quite sad.)


End file.
